Best Inherits Poems
The flying sent projections free to see,
from adjunct Astrals singing bold decree.
Perched on Pisces’s cusp, forsaking Plato’s cave,
Puppets casting shadows, chancing me a slave.
They hang from dreams of higher forms, allures
Contempt in self when loving carnal cores.
Haunted by women’s passions kept in Spirits,
Dawns my sleeping stages now inherits
Marionettes aloft eternal twists
of spinning truths with lies recalling trysts.
Killing prone volitions, changing essence.
Chosen starlight’s beings guiding presence.
Upon a love in purest form demands,
Forgotten suicides of ego strands.
Risking Pirsig’s fate in Zen and journey,
Waging sanity, a bounty worthy.
The stringing of my soul and bracing seeks,
A pulling truth beyond this death it speaks.
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Alternating stanzas of iambic and trochaic pentameter
When life gives you all you need
And you fly to the highest altitude,
Before you run out oxygen
Climb the learning curve of gratitude.
When life withholds all you need
And you start to get an attitude,
Before you drown in despair
Climb the learning curve of gratitude.
When you don't live up to your own standards
Give yourself some latitude,
And walk your way out of depression, and
Climb the learning curve of gratitude.
When you're losing your direction
And noise replaces your solitude,
Walk back to the peace and still, and
Climb the learning curve of gratitude.
When you feel you can't get lower
Just remember His beatitudes,
It's the humble that inherits all things, so
Climb the learning curve of gratitude.
Here lie a dentist and his wife.
Long in the tooth they left this life.
Young Smith inherits in the will
Two gold crowns and a dental drill!
13/09/18
' A funny epitaph contest' : Sponsored by Jesse Rowe
delightful dog days
aroma of summer rain -
inherits our joy
WOMB -
Dark and deep inside.
Suffocated and unconscious.
Soul inherits the body.
A new child is born.
In between -
Joys and griefs.
Part and parcel of life.
TOMB -
Life breathes its last.
Soul abandons the body.
Back to the eternity.
Back to dark and deep inside.
From womb to tomb
The soul-cycle continues
From tomb to womb.
This is the legend of Jack’s father
and to brag about him Jack won’t even bother
‘cause truth is not a virtue he inherits
and integrity’s a trait beneath his merits
Jack’s father takes the tip off every table
and parks his car in spots for the disabled
yeah Jack knows he’s a gambler and a liar
(not the mentor he was hoping to aspire)
If he can get away with stuff he WILL try
and he’s always at the ready with an alibi
Like the time he told Jack’s mother he’d be working late
when he was out with his mistress on a dinner date
But Jack’s mother’s oh-so-clever in her own way
she tells Jack “your dad will pay the piper someday
his lack of love and character will soon show
and there’ll be nothing of a legend left when he goes."
Her prediction was quite evident that weekend
when Jack’s father tried to steal from his best friend
but he couldn’t out run the Pit bull that was inside
(the neighbors just stood filming him as he cried)
“Oh help me please I’m really not a bad bloke”
but he became the 'butt' of every lame joke
‘cause his rear end bears the scars below his britches
(Jack's mum can't help but smile while doin' dishes)
Some things change and some things won’t.
Some people care and others just don’t.
The situation I’m in unmistakably changed,
for one I was close to has now been estranged.
I was told when younger to think on my own,
but now it's not something the teachers condone.
One thing that during my time I have found,
is that circular logic, it goes round and round.
So as long as my feet are firm on the ground,
I’m in need of nothing that is so unsound.
With all that I’ve learned, I head off all alone,
leaving all censorship behind me at home.
Started out slow, not a care in the world.
But as I move on and through time I am hurled,
tempo goes up, beats per minute increase.
Soon I can’t take it, I need it to cease.
Not able to stop, no not in the least,
I trudge on like a machine, well oiled and greased.
My actions like a snake, they slowly unwind,
and start on a hunt pursuing my mind.
The snake goes about deploying the bait,
then, patient the predator, lies in wait.
About temptation, one should not linger,
but I’ve taken the bait, hook line and sinker.
Wasting no time, the snake lashes out,
the forked tongue and fangs on a heart bound route.
I listen to the venom course through my veins,
as it makes it’s way on up to my brain.
Once it arrives and inherits its reign,
is when I’ll be left with nothing but pain.
I don't feel the way I’ve ever felt,
inside, my head stings just like a welt.
Abrasion against the strings of my heart,
strums out a tune that's miles from art.
I’ve gone and done something oh so wrong,
for I’m unable to sing, or hum along.
Now in the calm that’s the eye of the storm,
I must find out how to return to the norm.
Opening doors devoid of locks,
I stumble upon a strange looking box.
On top of this thing that I’ve found amongst rocks,
is a line that reads “Opportunity Knocks.”
Now standing before this jack-in-the-box
I turn the crank like a hand on our clocks,
The childhood jingle comes to stop,
as something symbolic shoots out with a pop.
Though am I clueless? No, not so much,
I’m not handicapped, I don't need a crutch.
Ill fated though, it’s a no-leaf clover.
I know what this means: I’ve got to start over.
Look at the brilliance this fascinating planet inherits,
It is intriguing,
unlike my very own,
the sphere of life at its finest,
waters deep blue, and sky just alike.
air so crisp, mist blowing onto my soft skin,
It feels like I am alien to this world,
but truth be told,
I am human,
that has been in my world
so long that I have forgotten the one,
in which I truly live
I am a human,
yet still,
an alien on Earth
There is indifference if I fail by trying
But there is jubilation if I finally succeed,
To persuade contrast faces quietly marvelling
With kindness to those who are in need.
There is love and sometimes there is peace,
The unknown scarcely threaten our realm,
To know the fear of hazards exist in space,
Will it be a virtual atmosphere or real pain?
There’s assurance, both of spirit and soul
The Kama of surety on earth we try to claim,
Our conscience inherits this virtue as gold,
In heaven, who knows what will be our name?
The future is unknown; unseen by our deeds
Permitted only with glimpses of what we feel,
Model upon other foundations reality succeeds
But those emotions are not always real.
The unknown advent angels secretly proclaim
Celestial beings with stern human face arrayed,
How will their awesome presence reign?
Over the fallen nations that they upbraid.
No pruning or pining or resurrection wishing
Entity elsewhere to share the unknown eternity,
We will stand with our lives overwhelming,
Witnesses in the surrounding world of plenty.
behind the shadows and visions bestowed
lies a valley.. the spirits abode
each spirit inherits a quest
that only time can help manifest
but with every manifestation within lies the spark
a thought in consciousness a light in the dark
a flame that flickers in each persons heart
and with each revolution there was also a start
but as we transcend each thought in a frame
the greater the fire that came out of the flame
like a tale prepared for a feast
we were nothing more than food for beasts
but as the mind and body become one, the spirit began to grow
the viel of deception was lifted and the world we began to know
The body mind and soul in divine material consciousness,
Unleashes false ego annihilating awareness;
But nature inherits all the ingredients of true dharma,
While "I" individuals contemplate they perpetrate karma;
Between dharma and karma it is the knowledgeable Saya,
That remains unattached to the ever evasive Maya.
*AUDIO, plus a, Video of A Clarification by YouTube.
"Let us shine and not burn," by Elle Casey
A Clarification
Conceived onsets by one's subjective state,
Clueless inceptions nebulously grow,
A mindless blind mute moves, rousing its fate,
Godsend occasion leaves the dark to glow.
Sparks the light of life mimic frames of minds,
Intricacies of distinctions arcane,
Emotions indulge past regret unwinds,
Scattered, detached, night candle burns the stain.
Shatter separateness as divisive,
Conceived borders we being inherits,
Emphases realized as decisive,
Everyone shares their respective merits.
Douse not our embers, but keep strong our flame,
Warm the blaze to a glow from whence we came.
2022 November 21
*5thPlace*
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE
~~Brian Strand: 2022 November 25
RZ & HMS.
Through unfinished steps the Son of God goes
towards chimed glory;love has set His seal.
An endeavor abreast paternal grows,
blindly bestows complete fervour, and zeal.
Bequeathing sun streamed through the blinds and drenched
the thirsty through His breath rite of baptism.
Flourished such love, such rapture, its strings quenched
closely weaved, which thus balance and holism.
Archangel had come down dressed in daylight,
folded wings, ethereal grace, and smile,
wisps of gold sunlight, and full moon twilight
immersed in steal life leaded-stained glass tile.
Boundless mercy of God; His arms around,
to all inherit white rose garden ground.
3/1/2018
Another summer of black bullets and white heat rhetoric.
The tally is in, and once again, black tears outpace death.
Fiery marchers adding another link to Martin Luther's chain.
Bull horns blowing poison balls of rubber room insanity.
The innocent are forever gifted to the cool, uncaring earth.
With hanging head we ask, "what's a poor life really worth?"
Enter the smoke and cracked mirror of onion paper blame.
Water colored common sense, sent bleeding down the drain.
Into the mouth of death, time tosses a mint of forgiveness
'til the dove inherits another black bullet to the breast.
Back in the day I used to think that death
could turn the flaws of life into its merits
like water into wine. As though breath
pursues breath out, death, I thought, inherits
a darkness of a dreamless sleep innate
to life. Alas, it soon became apparent
such nouns as "asphyxia" and "faint"
or, say, the adjectives "astray" and "errant" -
they do exist and their existence makes
the errant souls go astray and exit
wrong doors...
Whilst Author plays at ducks and drakes
on the existence, his persona legs it.
4/30/2019
Dial It Back Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Maureen McGreavy